


Spider Swallower

by ThePrincePeach



Series: The corpse in the corner begins to weep at what was taken from him. [10]
Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Angst, Broken Bones, Comatose, Depression, Dialogue Heavy, Family Feels, Flashbacks, Heavy Angst, Hospitalization, Hospitals, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Missing Persons, Other, Past Torture, Past Violence, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-18 08:42:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29855523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePrincePeach/pseuds/ThePrincePeach
Summary: Brenton visits Mike in the hospital, someone meets him there.
Series: The corpse in the corner begins to weep at what was taken from him. [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1815121
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	Spider Swallower

Brenton wanted to die. Pills crept down his throat like spiders and he felt a nest forming in his belly, he wondered how many spiders a person truly ate in a night of sleep and wondered further if such a thing was actually true. When was the last time he even saw a spider? The thought only occurs to him as he swallows another pill and chased it down with water that’s sat on his bedside table long enough for dust to settle atop the surface – eyes drifting up to the corner of the ceiling where a daddy long legs hid among cobwebs. The spider caused him no harm, he did not cause it harm, thus is the way of harmony. Instead, Brenton raised himself out of bed and planted one foot on the cold floor, the other leaning against the bedside table. Brenton didn’t want to deal with putting the compression on, nor the leg, but he’d need to leave his room eventually. He sighed, rubbed his face and felt his stubble on his jaw and the bags under his eyes, and looked back to the spider on the wall. 

“I got a gal you may like,” He mumbled in a half-hearted attempt at humouring himself, “She lives next door, real big gal, meaty one. I’ll tell her you’re interested.” 

He put the compression on, then the leg, stood with a minor wobble to steady himself then shuffled out of the room. A soft clicking of his fake foot and softer padding of his real, bare foot. The floor was cold. The cold was a good reminder that Brenton wasn’t in Hell. Yet. Maybe one day, but not today.

He passed Mike’s door and paused to look at it, look at the stolen stop sign the fake police tape, the stickers all worn into the wood to barely resemble the bands they represented. Brenton yearned to reach out and knock, wake up his brother and bring him down for breakfast. There was silence instead now, there was an empty room now. Well, besides the pets. He should make sure they’re fed today. Brenton didn’t want to go into Mike’s room, though, he never liked going in his room without verbal permission. Brenton was keen on giving the youth his privacy, understanding that he was a teenager once too and that the private spaces of a teenager were often the most personal. But Mike wasn’t here now to give him permission, Mike would be heartbroken to return home and not have the “little babies” as he called them still be there, safe and sound. 

Out of habit, Brenton first knocked, waited a minute or so, then opened the door. Even with Mike gone, it was polite to knock, still. Give the boy some warning. 

The bedroom, unsurprisingly, was empty and silent besides the squeaking of the wheel in the rat cage and the shuffling of cage liner. Mike’s room was small but comfortable; posters of men with long, dark hair and many, many tattoos screaming into microphones, bands and horror movies Brenton’s never heard of before, a few more street signs with sharpie doodles and messages scrawled on them, photographs of various things and people, more stickers, and fairy lights were slapped haphazardly across what little wall space there was. On one wall, a half-finished painting with buckets of paint stacked in the corner. On a set of shelves on another wall were dark books, old dolls and toys, and an odd amount of cheesy snowglobes and knickknacks that correlated oddly to their grandmother’s old collection. More art supplies sat on the tiny desk; sketchbooks filled more with post-it notes than drawings, pencils and pens scattered around, paint and brushes, even a few packs of coloured pencils and charcoal sticks. A few bean bag chairs tossed around the room and a beat-up armchair in the other corner – the bed sat near the window with plenty of stuffed animals and pillows piled at the headboard. On the dresser were a few intricate cages with Mike’s rats and spider inside, and various small pet goods. Mike’s room was dark, he rarely opened the curtains or turned on the main light – the room was cast into an odd light as Brenton clicked the switch. He sighed softly. 

“Good morning, fella’s,” He mumbled, turning his attention to the cages on the dresser. The silence was killing him, he needed noise and sometimes he was the sole provider of it. The rats squeaked. He smiled softly and shuffled over. “You guys still have food?” 

Frankie was the largest, short for Frankenstein, naturally, Dracula had black fur with no spots, and Norman was the smallest. Brenton still didn’t understand why Mike chose such a name for the rat, Norman Bates was quite tall if Brenton recalls correctly. But he shrugged and fed the rats anyway. Next, he turned his gaze to the last cage – this one more lovely and decorative, yet still functional. A pink toed tarantula slowly crawled out from under a few leaves and her eyes gleamed in Brenton’s direction, disregarding him as he had nothing to offer. The man wouldn’t lie; she creeped him out. He often found the sight of her out of her cage, normally residing somewhere on Mike or in his pocket, freaky. But, the kid loved her, regarding her highly, and cared for her as any pet owner would. 

“Good morning… Madam…” He sighed. She bit Brenton once, it caused a reaction much like a bee-sting. Brenton remained cautious around her afterwards. He never understood how easily Mike could drop crickets in for her, let alone pick her up and hold her so calmly. Brenton once came in and found Mike asleep with her on his head, the kid had a way with bugs. Even the crickets seemed content with their sacrifice to the spider when Mike was the one lifting them and dropping them to their doom. Brenton struggled with it, naturally. He needed the pincers to grab them and drop them in, but couldn’t stomach watching the Madam hunt them afterwards. Mike said he tried crickets to show her it was okay to eat when she was new to the home, he said they tasted better than the texture they had. Brenton didn’t want to think about how many crickets his brother has eaten.

He wondered if hospital food tasted better. He wondered if Mike was actually eating. Last he checked, the tube was still in his belly giving him food. Brenton wondered if crickets would crawl out one day. He shook the thought away. 

His eyes trailed towards the bed, to the stuffed animals and pillows. Brenton smiled faintly as he sat on the edge of the bed and pulled up a bear, brushing off the head and fixing the tiny hat on top. The toy had seen better days, it was lucky that Mike knew how to sew and could patch whatever holes or tears the toy acquired in its long, long life. The fur was dingy and worn in, the buttons of the coat replaced throughout time and mismatched, the small ‘M’ on the breast pocket badly sewn back. Mike adored the toy, every new stitch and patch told a story through the years. Brenton held it so carefully between his hands, waving the small arms with his thumbs with a chuckle of his own. He recalled fondly, the memory of giving the toy played in his head whenever his thoughts turned to Mike. The memory set his heart and soul at ease. 

He brought the toy with him when he left the house that morning.

Brenton provided no use in the hospital room, but he still wanted to believe it brought Mike comfort to have him nearby. It comforted Brenton to a degree to have Mike close, to watch him in the waking sleep state he was seemingly trapped in. He visited every day, sitting by his bed, holding his hand off and on again, speaking to him as much as he could. Brenton read to him, anything he could find that looked somewhat interesting; books, short stories, magazine and newspaper articles, letters and cards his friends sent him, anything he could. Every so often in the day, Brenton would remind him of what the date or time was, just to make sure he wasn’t too lost in his darkness. The man’s throat was often sore by the end of a visit but Brenton didn’t let that stop him. A nurse who visited Mike just as often said it was endearing how he continued to visit and read and speak to him, most patients didn’t have that. 

When Brenton didn’t have something to read to him, he spoke instead. He said anything he could think of, even things he didn’t think through but said anyway. Brenton spoke about his day, spoke about plans for the next day, about the rats and spider, what the nurses and doctors looked like, what the weather was like, any interesting news or facts Brenton learnt that day. It wasn’t very interesting to Mike, he thought, but it was still something. 

“Good morning, Mr Schimdt,” The darkly dressed girl behind the counter mumbled, looking up at the man warily. 

“Morning, Kimmy,” Brenton hummed, digging around in his pocket for the library card. She stopped him with a chuckle and typed the number in. 

“I’ll put it in Mike’s name since it’s one of his,” She commented as she looked up at him, her smile faltering a bit as she looked back down, “I uh, I hope it’s okay. I… I picked out some books I thought he’d like.” Brenton perked up. She continued, “How is he?” 

“He’s um,” He never liked to lie, Brenton sighed, “He’s still asleep. I read him your card though. It was very sweet, Kimmy, thank you for that.” He tried to smile, she tried back. “I’ll tell the nurse today that you and his other friends can visit him too again. “ He offered to her. She smiled with her dark painted lips, nodded, and looked back down to the books. Brenton didn’t quite understand Mike’s friends; they all seemed like trouble makers who wore dark clothes and darker makeup. But he was pleased Mike found some people to call his friends – despite their appearances and occasional habit of stealing street signs. When news broke out about Mike, they were the first to scramble together at the Schmidt household, half of the small group sobbing and the other trying to be strong as they stammered out their concerns. Even now, despite her heavy eyeliner and heavier mascara, tears hid in the corners of her eyes and threatened to spill. Brenton stole a glance around the library before leaning over, gently squeezing her arm for reassurance. “He’ll be okay, Kimmy. We’ll all have a nice dinner when he’s home, sound good?” 

Another promise. Brenton had decided to have a nice dinner when Mike was home, bringing his friends and the coworkers worried for him. They had no family to invite. Brenton called their mother when Mike was hospitalized, she didn’t pick up but Brenton didn’t fault her for that – timezone differences and all. He didn’t fault her for not calling back, she had a busy life. He wouldn’t want to call back either when something like this happened. He didn’t want to be here for this now. But mom was sick, sick in the head, she wasn’t good to Mike so she gave him up before she truly hurt him. That’s what Brenton wanted to think anyway. He didn’t want to think about what she’s done to him. She didn’t care for him after she found a new boyfriend, he thought. He smiled faintly despite such a sad idea. Mike was his now, though. 

Brenton couldn’t keep Mike safe, either, though. So was there really a point? He put the books in his bag, making sure they did not upset the withered old bear.

“Good morning, Mr Schmidt,” A nurse chimed, smiling her ever pleasant smile. Brenton managed a smile back as he signed in and pulled off the visitor sticker. He stuck it on his chest and sighed. She continued, “Seeing Mike again?” 

“Yes,” Brenton replied with a soft chuckle, making sure the sticker was in place correctly, “I brought him some more books today, is that alright?” She nodded and filled out papers on a clipboard, smiling all the while. “Has there been updates with him?” 

“Mm, no, sorry. Same old, same old. Which for someone like him is good! He’s taken to the new medicine well, no signs of distress or pain, but still not awake.” She explained shortly. The same thing every morning, nothing to update but nothing horrible occurring. Brenton clung to what little joy there was in that and gave the nurse another polite smile, then headed for the room. Mike stayed in room 574, on the fifth floor. They nearly had him in the children’s ward but changed last minute to the adult ward. Brenton was sure that Mike would have appreciated it more so than the children’s area, always trying to prove how responsible and adult he was, and all. Knowing no one would answer but habit carrying his hand, Brenton raised his hand to knock on the hospital door. 

Someone spoke from the inside. He froze. The nurses never showed up around this time, but maybe something changed? The nurse said no updates so why would something change? He pulled back his hand to keep from knocking and nibbled on his lower lip anxiously, shooting a glance to the nurse standing at the desk. She noticed his gaze and raised a brow, he gestured to the door, she looked confused, he frowned and gestured to the door again. 

“Is it locked?” She called down, he hushed her quickly. She gave a concerned look to her coworker before hurrying over to him. He stayed silent as he gestured to the door and whispered, 

“Someone else is in there,” 

She matched his frown and looked to the door, then perked up. Her cheeks flushed and she chuckled, almost nervously, “Oh, Mr Schmidt, I am so very sorry. He had another visitor. He must still be in there! I’m sorry, it must have passed my mind.” She chuckled again, not noticing the worry overtaking Brenton’s expression. When she did, her smile began to deflate. “Is… Is he not meant to have visitors?” 

Brenton opened the door and rushed in, eyes darting immediately to the bed and to the man sitting beside it. The man held a book in his tired, old hands, to which he slid a bookmark in and closed the book promptly. He chuckled softly. The man was old and held a tired look in his eyes, eyes that lit up upon realizing who Brenton was. He smiled warmly and gestured to the seat across from him, across the bed, Brenton’s usual seat. Did this man know? Brenton was silent as he kept his eyes on the other man and slid slowly in his seat. 

“Hello, Brenton,” 

“Hey… Noel…” 

Noel set the book in his lap and folded his hands over it, keeping a faint smile as he turned his eyes to the boy in bed. He reached out and took up Mike’s hand, squeezing it lightly, almost comfortingly. The older hummed for a moment before sighing, he spoke in a soft tone, “Mike was the closet person I had to a grandson, I had begun to love him like one. He is a clever boy, you know this, I know this, everyone knows this. He is clever.” 

“He was…” 

“He is,” Noel corrected, turning his gaze back to Brenton, “He will be again. I am sure of this. I have seen this boy fight, I know he will not go down without one.” The man reached over Mike’s lap and offered his other hand to Brenton, who stared at it uncertainly. He took it after a moment, it felt odd to finally be comforted. He had not had it yet. He had comforted others, but not himself yet. He felt the sting of tears in his eyes and he rubbed them with his fist. “Brenton, my dearest, please take my help. I insist. Please, let me do this for you, for Mike. He was hurt so badly under my watch, in my business, I only wish to help. I cannot lose my grandson, Brenton, I-“ He paused, noticing the man’s expression, and looked down. He gave a weak chuckle. “I… I’m sorry for that. Please, pardon this? But, but take my help. I wish to take any struggles from you and him as I can.”

“Noel, what do you mean?” Brenton asked, gently squeezing his hand. 

“I have sent the bills to my name, to my accounts, but they need you to sign off on this.” Brenton tensed up. “I want to help, sign off and let me pay for this. It is the very little least I can do. Allow me this, my dearest.” Both hands hurried to grab Brenton’s, his hold trembled but squeezed his hand firmly. He smiled despite his scared expression. 

“W-Why do you want to help? I don’t understand. How, how did you find his room?” 

“I knew of you and Paul,” Noel finally admitted, sighing again, turning his head down, “How shameful of a father I was…” 

“You’re ashamed because he was gay?” Brenton scowled. Noel’s head snapped up. 

“What? No! No no no, not at all! I love my boys, I love you, I love Mike – If they find someone who makes them happy, I am happy. I, I am ashamed he could never tell me this. I have given him the idea in life that I, ah, I am someone he cannot trust, he cannot open to. That is shameful of a father.” He shook his head and looked up to Brenton again, then looked back down to Mike. He chuckled softly. 

“You… You came to see Mike to see me?” 

“Ah, yes and no.” Noel’s smile faltered and he reached up, petting back Mike’s hair ever so carefully, wary of the bandages on the youth’s face and ears. “I came to see if Mike knew where Paul was. They worked together the night this… Happened… I hoped to see if Mike was awake and if he knew anything. And if he didn’t, I wanted to ask you.” He looked sadly to Brenton, who looked to be on the verge of tears once more. “… Paul is missing, Brenton. The, the police believe the same person who attacked Mike, must have attacked Paul. I have had my men scouring the city since he went missing and no trails or traces can be found. He has just, ah, vanished. I think. He just vanished. His brother does not know where he is, his friends do not know, Mike is asleep and you, your face is so scared… You do not know either, do you?” 

It made sense to Brenton in some way or another; your son is missing so you find any connections and ask around, you ask his friends and his partner and everyone else you can think of. With no family to aid you, you turn to the family you have left; Noel turned to the Schmidts. Brenton was shocked to hear Noel actually involved police this time, it must be serious to involve a law force instead of the private men the older hired and brought from time to time. It was clear someone attacked Mike, but Brenton couldn’t think of who would ever do such a thing. Noel began to choke up as he continued. 

“The police, they believe Paul did this to Mike and ran away. I could not tell them of your relationship, I vow to you I did not tell a soul. I tried to explain that Paul would never hurt a hair on Mike but they did not listen. They believe Paul attacked Mike. M-My boy, my boy would never harm yours. He loved Mike. He loved you. They do not believe me and I cannot tell them the truth I know. Mike will tell them, he did not hurt him. You, you believe me? You believe me, don’t you?” 

Brenton stared at Mike, at the bloody bandages, at the glazed look in his eyes. Bandages covered over his ears and the upper corner of his face, butterfly bandages over his swollen and bruised lip, his teeth wired shut, the bruises littered over his face a nasty shade of yellow and brown and purple. His leg was horribly broken, the kneecap had shattered and split, the cast would need to stay on for a while. His ears were shredded, they would never heal correctly back into shape. His wrist was badly sprained, fingers were broken, a few nails were missing – and that was only on the outside view. The doctors told him that a few ribs were broken, it probably didn’t help that he had his binder on through the night. They were lucky his lung wasn’t punctured. He had deep bruising around his throat, bruising inside and out, hand-shaped marks that were covered with bandages. Hands that Brenton wanted to tell himself weren’t Paul, Paul could never hurt Mike.

Right? 

He shook his head softly and looked back to Noel, mumbling, “Paul could never do this to Mike. To anyone.” They sat in silence after that, Noel relieved to have someone believe him and Brenton conflicted. Paul was missing. It rang in his head and clutched at his chest. He barely held it together when he heard Mike was hospitalized, let alone when he saw him. But Paul? Mike never mentioned his shifts anymore, Brenton was never around to hear it, anyway. Paul or Jeremy always took him to work or school and back when Brenton couldn’t. Did Jeremy take him to work that day? He can barely remember. He came for a reason. Ah, yes. That’s why.

His hands trembled as he pulled the bag up and, giving Noel a cautious glance, pulled the little teddy bear out. Noel sniffled and wiped his eyes with a handkerchief, staring briefly at the toy before looking back down. Brenton showed his trust and Noel accepted it. Brenton hummed and the man smiled a small smile.

“Is that… That Mike’s? He liked stuffed animals, I forgot…” He asked. Brenton nodded and gave a smile back. 

“He does. He has a lot of them, ah, I probably shouldn’t tell you that.” Brenton let out a soft chuckle and fixed the hat again, “This one is, is uh, is special, Mike always has it in his bed. Even today, he sleeps with it. It’s cute. I uh,” He cleared his throat, “I got it for him when I first got him. He was so little, he had these big round cheeks and beautifully glittery eyes. His hands were so small and pale, they looked like little doll hands, he used to hold my fingers and squeeze and squeeze and squeeze until I thought they’d pop off.” Brenton laughed quietly. “And he’d, he’d fit so perfectly in my arms. God, it was like a missing puzzle piece, the way he’d settle in my arms and on my chest. He was my brother, he is my brother, through and through – but I raised him, I love him, like a son. Part of me wanted to be his dad and he’d never know I was his brother. I could have done it, our ages made sense, but he was smart. I could never keep a secret from him. I uh,” he cleared his throat and tried again, “He was maybe, mm, he was a toddler when I got him. In the spring, he came to America. We had the same mom but different dads, so, so I guess we’re more half-brothers? That doesn’t matter to me though. But, my grandmother called me one day, crying, saying how mom just dropped Mike off with her and left. No goodbye, no promises, nothing. She called and called and called her but she never replied. Grandmother tried to take care of him, but she couldn’t either, so she called me. Begged me to help. I agreed to take care of Mike, a brother I didn’t even realize I had until she called.” 

He wiped his eyes with his hand and laughed again, smiling, Noel smiled back. He commented quietly, “You fell in love with him before you ever met him?” 

“Oh, god, yeah. My little Mi-kyung, that’s his Korean name. I called him ‘Kiki’ so he could learn it. I still do. He’s my little Kiki. It was such a fun name, I thought he’d have fun saying it, so he’d learn it faster. He came up with Mike on his own, though, I guess a teacher called him Mike and he liked it. So, so he became Mike. Mike, Kiki, Mi-kyung, I guess he liked the ‘Ma’ and ‘ki’ sounds enough. I guess his name was a little too fun because he kept it.” He laughed again, louder this time. “Oh, I tried to do the same with my name. Brenton. I thought and thought and thought for what he could call me, but I just had to ask him. Buba, he calls me Buba. He still calls me Buba. Buba and Kiki, what a duo. I- the bear, right, the bear. I gave this to him when he first came to America. He was so scared, he hid behind the TSA gal. He didn’t know me. I didn’t know him. Hell, I wanted to hide behind her, too. I was so scared. He looked like a little doll, I thought I’d break him. He looked so small and delicate, I thought just looking at him too harshly would break him. I had never seen a baby so… So…”

“Beautiful?” 

“Yes.” He smiled, looking over to Mike again. He took up his hand and turned the palm upwards, pressing his own against it. “I… I told him, I told myself, I’d keep him safe every day I breathed and every day I stopped breathing. I’d be there every step of the way with him. But, but then work was so busy. I left him alone for so long at a time. He was so lonely, I heard that once, he was so lonely. I made him lonely. I can’t believe I did that. I’m such a bad brother. I couldn’t keep my promise and keep him safe, he was hurt and I didn’t keep him safe.” His smile stayed despite the tears dribbling down his cheeks, staring at Mike and his many, many bandages. “I broke my promise. I see Mike now and see that little boy who’s hand I held in the airport, he trusted me. He was so lost and scared. Everyone left him. I left him after promising I wouldn’t. I held him so tight that day, he cried and I promised I would never leave him. Do you think he hates me, Noel? I hate me. I hate myself every fucking day.” He began to shake, to sob, eyes staring at Mike and not leaving him. He grinned and he sobbed. “I’m such a piece of shit. I made so many, many promises and couldn’t keep any of them. I’m such an awful brother. He hates me because I left him alone. He hates me because I couldn’t protect him. I hate myself, I couldn’t keep my baby brother safe, I can never keep him safe. And now he’s in the hospital, clinging to life, he may never fucking wake up and I let it happen. I told him we’d go to dinner to celebrate him getting a good grade on his final, we were going to go to his favourite restaurant. But, but work needed me so we rescheduled. I should have told them no. I should have. We could have had dinner and ice cream and went home and watched movies and, and everything would be okay. Everything would be normal! But because I’m a piece of shit, I didn’t, I went to work and he was so lonely that he went to work on the day he took off just for our dinner. And he got hurt. And Paul is missing. And Mike may never wake up. What if he doesn’t wake up, Noel? What then? I don’t remember what I last said to him. I think I apologized. I think I tried to hug him. He hates me, he hates me. He fucking hates me.” 

Brenton tensed up when arms were thrown around his shoulders and he was brought into a firm but frightened hug, he continued to sob in the arms of Noel who suddenly had hugged him so close. The man trembled lightly as he rubbed over Brenton’s back and head, hugging him tight, unsure of what to say but knowing he needed to do something. He shook his head as Brenton gripped at the back of his shirt, sobs turning hysterical, his body racking and shaking with his weeping. 

“This is all my fault!” Brenton wept, Noel frowned and continued to pet over his hair. “It’s all my fault!” 

…

Noel opened his eyes slowly and turned his pale eyes down to the other man, who slept silently in the chair with his arms folded over the bed and his head in his arms. Brenton still held Mike’s hand, their grips loose but not enough to slip away. The bear settled in Brenton’s arms and appearing to hug his head, staring, too, at Mike. He wasn’t sure when Brenton dozed off, but he did. His heart was sore at the idea of how long Brenton had been holding onto such pain, so much sorrow and stress. He sighed softly and rose from his chair once more, grabbing his cane this time. The older man shuffled over silently and pulled his jacket off, draping it over the sleeping man’s shoulders and giving his head another gentle pat. 

“You poor thing,” He whispered, unsure if he was talking to Brenton or the beloved toy. Noel thought for a moment before slipping the bear from Brenton’s arms and brushing it off, then moved to Mike. As carefully as he could, he lifted Mike’s arm and tucked the bear under it, then moved his arm around to hold it near his chest. Noel smiled, petting the boy’s hair back with a loving touch. Yes, Mike was the closest Noel would have to a grandchild, but he was not sad about such a fact. He was excited. Finally, someone new to spoil rotten, Noel thought with a chuckle. For as little as they interacted, they got along quite well. They bonded first over food. At such an old age, Noel still loved spicy food. Mike cooked very spicy food. It was a wonderful match when Mike brought kimchi for his coworkers to try. So very spicy! It reminded Noel of the shakshuka his own late wife would make, bless her soul. They prattled on for nearly an hour on spicy food afterwards. 

He smiled once more and kept his hand atop Mike’s head for a moment longer before adjusting the toy in his arm again, then paused. The man tilted his head slightly upon noticing the little chain lose around his neck. Mike never mentioned a necklace, he always seemed more to enjoy piercings and the occasional ring but never necklaces. He glanced to Brenton to make sure he was asleep before returning his attention to Mike and the necklace. It must be special to keep it on through this event. Noel let the curiosity get the better of him and tugged up the little chain, soon revealing a locket tucked into his hospital gown. 

“Huh…” 

Noel said nothing as he fingered the locket, glancing over the intricate piece, careful not to disturb the chain further. He checked again on Brenton before looking at the tiny lock on the side. Noel raised a bushy brow as he fidgeted with the lock, staring at it for a moment with a frown. A glob of glue kept the lock shut tight. He, yet again, looked to Brenton before looking around the room. Something seemed wrong about the locket but Noel wasn’t quite sure what. He reached around Mike’s neck and carefully unlocked it, pulling it off completely. He glanced it over fully, gave it a small shake, then lifted it to his ear for a moment. Noel looked around again, pulling a pocket knife from his slacks and flicking open the blade. He sat back down and got to work scraping and cutting away the glue. 

Within minutes, the locket clicked open. 

“… What the…?” 

It appeared to be a small disc player, the disc itself no bigger than a half-dollar coin. It slowed to a stop when the lid opened, Noel was more amazed than he should be at such a small and complicated piece built into a locket. He turned the locket over and popped out the little disc into his palm, it seemed so small and meaningless to him until he noticed the inscription on the side. In small, fancy cursive, Noel whispered the name out loud, 

“Afton Robotics, LLC…” 

His head snapped up when he heard a soft groaning from the bed, a weepy, confused noise. Mike’s head twitched, raising slowly and shakily to his head to move over the bandages. He whined again. Noel felt his stomach drop as the boy began to stir further. Brenton felt the movement and woke up quickly, blinking awake. Mike touched at his mouth before seeing the other. 

“Mike!” Brenton gasped, scrambling to his feet. Through his forced-grit teeth and swollen tongue, Mike cried out and reached for his brother, 

“Buba,” He wept, the words muffled and malformed, “Buba, Buba…” 

Brenton smiled and carefully but quickly brought the boy into his arms, holding him close. Mike gasped and shuddered, uncovered eye frantically glancing around the room. He repeated the endearing nickname over and over again, a new language to spill his pain and fear. His hands clung and gripped at his brother, bandaged fingers digging into the fabric of the back of his shirt. 

Noel hurriedly slipped the locket into his pocket as Brenton called for a nurse, then a doctor, then anyone who could hear. 

He smiled. Mike looked to him with a nearly horrified expression.

Afton Robotics, LLC. 

The spider crept into his chest and formed a nest inside his heart, living in constant and violent war with the crickets in his belly. The spider hurt Mike, harm must come to the spider. 

Thus is the way of harmony.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I'm not sure how to tag them, so I use character names for now. They are not oc's, they do have canon slots later. 
> 
> Keep an eye on that. 
> 
> And also, I like the idea of the illusion discs from the book series. So that's here now. I won't reference too much of the books, promises.
> 
> <3 Thank you so much to those still reading or starting to read. I hope you enjoy.


End file.
